


Steal My Sunbeam

by SamanthaBlue



Category: Les Misérables (2012), Les Misérables - All Media Types, Les Misérables - Schönberg/Boublil, Les Misérables - Victor Hugo
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - Pets, Fluff, Other, sunbeam politics
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-01-26
Updated: 2014-01-26
Packaged: 2018-01-10 03:01:54
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,405
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1153978
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SamanthaBlue/pseuds/SamanthaBlue
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Grantaire is a goldfish. Enjolras is the cat he falls in love with.</p>
<p>Or: All Les Amis are pets of Jean Valjean and Cosette. Grantaire is sad being trapped in one room, and Enjolras helps expand his world. Grantaire must learn to see his own potential, and return the favour.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Steal My Sunbeam

The day Grantaire met Enjolras was five months into his stay at his new home. His tank was in the living room, which faced east, and every morning that was not cloudy he was bathed in brilliant warm rays. He always swam to the left hand side of his tank so he could enjoy the best of the sunlight hitting his scales.

Except that morning, it was not the brightness of a warm new day that greeted him. It was an entirely different form of brightness: two brilliant blue eyes in a brown furry face. Upon seeing Grantaire, the cat leaned closer. 

“Hello,” said Grantaire.

The cat pulled his head back slightly. He was a stunning seal point Siamese, eyes the brilliant blue of a desert sky, a shining sleek golden coat that seemed to contain the sun inside his body. He bristled. “I wasn’t aware a simple goldfish was learned in language.”

He was trying to establish superiority by showing off, Grantaire realised. “It’s much harder to eat something that can answer back, isn’t it?”

The cat sat stiffly.

“I am Grantaire,” Grantaire said. “And you are in my sunbeam.”

“Are sunbeams all that concern you?” the cat asked.

“In the mornings, yes,” Grantaire replied. “In the afternoon the sun has moved to the other side of the house.”

“What do you do then?”

“Await the next morning,” said Grantaire simply.

“Your life is pointless,” said the cat disparagingly, turning his head away.

Grantaire swam a little to the left, forcing himself back into the cat’s gaze. “And what do you do daily, O glorious one? It seems to me it is in the nature of a cat to eat, sleep, sit in sunbeams and hunt. Is that not what you are doing now? Did you not want to eat me, and steal my sunbeam?”

“If all you enjoy is to absorb light, I fail to see why you belong anywhere other than my stomach! You darken the sun, Grantaire.”

Hurt twisted with satisfaction that he had ruffled the cat’s fur, and Grantaire was about to respond, but at that moment the sliding door to the living room opened and the young mistress, Cosette, came in in her fluffy white dressing gown, rubbing her eyes with her small hands. When she blinked blearily and took in the room at large, she let out a cry and stormed forwards, seizing the cat bodily around the middle and marching out, carrying him with her. 

“You aren’t to touch the fish, Enjolras!” she scolded as the cat – Enjolras – squirmed and meowed loudly. Grantaire watched the scene with amusement. He was always safe from the wrath of Cosette and her father, Jean Valjean – nobody ever was angry at the goldfish.

****

Combeferre was a snake who lived in a tank just a few feet from Grantaire’s. He didn’t talk as much as the other pets, but he was wise and dependable – even if all Grantaire depended on him for was a laugh.

Cosette, who was very fond of all her pets, had taken him out of his tank and wrapped him around the neck and shoulders of her boyfriend, Marius, who was looking as though he was going to throw up from fear at any moment.

Underneath the noses of Marius and Cosette, Combeferre and Grantaire were having a conversation.

“The cat?” Combeferre questioned. “Do you mean Enjolras? As far as I know he’s been here two months. He isn’t allowed in here; they’re afraid he’ll eat you and I’ll eat him.”

“He’s too afraid to eat me,” Grantaire said. “Squeeze him a little. Not enough to hurt him, just scare him a bit!”

Combeferre smiled, as much as a snake can smile, and Marius let out a soft squeak of terror as the muscled creature wrapped over his body contracted ever so slightly. 

“I’ve never met a cat before,” said Combeferre thoughtfully, “but he’s an odd one. He was talking to Joly and Bossuet, trying to convince them not to stoop to the indignities of begging for food. I might have once thought it impossible to convince dogs to go against their nature, but they did seem to be listening.”

Cosette seemed to have decided she had punished Marius enough, and began unwinding her pet snake from his shoulders. Combeferre rubbed against her cheek affectionately before she put him back in his large tank.

“When did you see this?” Grantaire asked. He himself had never seen Enjolras before, and Combeferre only had slightly more access to the rest of the house than Grantaire did. When he was brought out of his tank, they usually kept him in this room.

“Jean Valjean brought me to the other room to show his parole officer a few weeks ago,” Combeferre explained. He was twining himself around his tree. 

“Wow,” Grantaire murmured, trying to picture what the world outside this room looked like. He had only ever had two homes: here and the pet shop, which he could scarcely remember, having been so young. There was an incredible day in between, when he had been in a plastic bag of water sitting in the front seat of Valjean’s car. Trees had gone by at speeds he could never have imagined, the sunlight flitting in and out so fast it made Grantaire dizzy. The water around him had seemed to positively vibrate. It was a magical day, perhaps not the most comfortable he had ever experienced, but it had opened new worlds to one who had only ever known the tank he was born in.

****

The next morning, Grantaire found himself not awaiting the sun to rise high enough to hit his tank, but waiting instead for the arrival of Enjolras. Sure enough, despite Enjolras not being allowed in the living room, Grantaire spied a dark brown paw wedging itself between the sliding door and the wall, prying it open enough that Enjolras could slip inside, paws silent on the carpet. Cats moved in a funny way, Grantaire mused as he watched Enjolras stalk over to the desk his tank was sat on, pause for a moment, then leap up.

“Come to steal my sunbeam again?” Grantaire said lightly. Enjolras bristled; he was so easily offended. “I’m surprised you dared show your face again; I would be pretty embarrassed if I’d been carried off yowling like someone had chopped off my tail.”

This time Enjolras actually hissed, and he was pretty when he was angry. “I still haven’t made up my mind not to eat you!” he growled. 

“You won’t,” said Grantaire confidently. “You couldn’t. I’m pretty fast.” And he darted side to side to show him, even swimming a whole loop and through a toy hollow log in the bottom of his tank. Enjolras’s bright eyes followed him. “Besides,” Grantaire said, pausing and hovering just in front of Enjolras’s face, only a thin pane of glass separating them, “as we discussed yesterday, you couldn’t eat anything that can hold a conversation with you. Do you ever think about the poor fish in the food you’re going to have for breakfast as soon as the old master wakes up? Do you ever wonder what lively debates they might have had with their friends and family before they were cruelly scooped from the sea to be digested in your stomach?”

On the surface, Enjolras looked unperturbed, but his eyes reflected the doubt in his heart. Enjolras was, without doubt, a strange creature. He was a thing that was born to hunt, but it seemed he could not stand the thought of it. 

“You want to be kind,” Grantaire said, correctly interpreting Enjolras’s expressions. “You want to be kind, but there’s really nothing you can do. If you don’t feast on flesh you’ll die. You can talk to the dogs all you want” – here Enjolras’s head swung around to Combeferre, who was watching the exchange with sleepy eyes – “but a leopard will never change its spots. You may be pretty and fluffy, but that will never help you change anything you hate about nature.”

Enjolras remained for a beat, but then he jumped down off the desk and stalked back out into the corridor, tail high but head tucked down low.

“You know, you shouldn’t tease him if you want him to like you,” mumbled Combeferre sleepily.

“He’s a cat,” Grantaire said. “I don’t want him to like me. I hear having your bones crunched is not a nice feeling.”

“Alright then,” said Combeferre, with the air of one who knew the other was lying but was content to leave him to believe what he wanted. 

Grantaire would have pressed the issue, but Combeferre’s eyes were closed now. The snake was resting soundly.

****

Enjolras must be a glutton for punishment, because he returned to speak with Grantaire every morning for the rest of the week. Combeferre sometimes joined in, but mostly he contented himself with sleeping or else simply observing them. Their discussions were frequently heated, and it seemed Enjolras was determined not to let Grantaire get the better of him again. 

One morning Enjolras told Grantaire about where he was born.

“I had four siblings,” he said. “We lived in a cardboard box in a basement with my mother. The humans there were alright, but not very affectionate. We only really saw them when they were giving my mother food, or else showing us to people. They never wanted to keep us.”

Grantaire wasn’t sure whether or not he should make a sympathetic humming sound, but Enjolras was speaking in a very matter-of-fact tone and he didn’t seem to be the type of cat that enjoyed pity.

“My sisters were taken first, of course. They always want the girls. Then I was chosen before my brother. I was a Christmas present for a small boy. I didn’t like him much; he kept pulling my tail.” Here Grantaire chuckled, which Enjolras ignored. “Then I grew up. The family didn’t want me anymore. Jean Valjean adopted me from the shelter.”

Grantaire didn’t miss the fact that Enjolras had skirted over his time in the shelter.

“I never knew my family,” Grantaire confessed. “I never knew much of anything. I knew my tank mates in the pet shop, but I didn’t get on with them. I’m happy alone.” He was quiet then, realising suddenly that he had no stories to tell.

Enjolras, who had been sitting, laid his front paws in front of himself as he lay down. “You’ve only ever had two homes?” he asked.

“A pet fish doesn’t see much,” said Grantaire. “Cats have it the best. You can go anywhere you like.”

“But we like to stay settled,” said Enjolras. “I hope I am settled, that I won’t have to move to another family again, but you never know what the future holds.”

“I know what lies in my future,” Grantaire said sullenly. “I sleep, I wake, you steal my sunbeam, all in this tank. I’ll never see different four walls in my life.”

“Why are you so negative?” Enjolras questioned sharply, rising until he was sitting properly. “All you do is complain. Why don’t you try and think of a way out of here?”

“It’s a fish tank, Enjolras,” Grantaire said sarcastically. “Perhaps someone needs to explain the concept of gills to you one more time.”

Enjolras bristled, his fur visibly rising in annoyance. “Fine,” he snapped. “If you’re so grumpy, I’m going to figure it out for you!” 

And he leapt off the table and strode out the door.

****

Grantaire did not bother himself with trying to think of Enjolras’s plan, not that he needed to. The very next night Grantaire woke to a loud crash. The light from the streetlamp outside just barely illuminated two glowing eyes sitting atop a cabinet to the left of Grantaire’s tank. Enjolras had sent a clock crashing to the floor. 

The cat leapt lightly to the floor, only to jump up on top of the couch opposite, sink his claws into the cushions, and begin systematically tearing it to shreds.

“Enjolras, stop!” Combeferre cried.

“I can’t,” said Enjolras, not meeting Combeferre’s eyes. “Grantaire thinks I can’t show him new sights. I’m proving him wrong.”

“Neither Grantaire nor I want this new sight to be the place we live in destroyed!” 

Enjolras ignored Combeferre.

“He’s right, you need to stop,” Grantaire said. “What will you accomplish by destroying things? The humans are good people; why punish them like this?”

Enjolras had stopped responding. Neither Combeferre nor Grantaire could get out of their tanks to bodily restrain him, and none of the other pets in the rest of the house heard Combeferre calling. 

Later on, Grantaire would wonder how Jean Valjean and Cosette had failed to hear Enjolras destroying their living room. Even so, Enjolras worked diligently for hours until, just before sunrise, Jean Valjean came into the room and gave a shout. Enjolras, whose paws were stuck in a half torn up piece of carpet, visibly shrank.

“What did you do?!” the man cried. He bent down and tried to pick Enjolras up from the floor, but the cat yowled as the carpet yanked on his trapped claws. Jean Valjean had to lean down and physically untangle him from the carpet. “You have a scratching post, you have toys, you have cardboard boxes; why do you feel the need to do this?” He held Enjolras out in front of him, and Enjolras gazed at him balefully. “You’re not even meant to be allowed in here.” And with that, Enjolras was tucked against his shoulder and carried from the room.

It was six hours before Grantaire and Combeferre learned what Enjolras had been hoping to accomplish. Jean Valjean had shown Cosette the desolation of their living room, and they had each agreed it was completely unusable. Not a single surface had been left free from scratches. The carpet had been ripped and was in need of replacing, objects thrown to the ground and broken. Jean Valjean and Cosette had agreed that Grantaire and Combeferre needed to be moved to a different room while they replaced the damage. 

Together, and ever so carefully, the two of them lifted Grantaire’s tank and moved it to another room.

Grantaire was placed on the dining table, Combeferre in the corner of the room. And Grantaire realised the gift Enjolras had given him. On one side of his tank he faced a large guinea pig hutch, housing a short haired red named Jehan and a long haired black and white named Bahorel. On another side was a gorgeous blue parrot whose name was Courfeyrac, whom Grantaire would learn was good friends with Combeferre. On another side of his tank was his old friend Combeferre, and on the fourth he was allowed a beautiful view of a huge green yard, the sides adorned by flowers of colours Grantaire could not even describe. Out there lived a sweet rabbit named Feuilly and Joly and Bossuet, two mongrel dogs.

Grantaire could talk to them all, and it was all thanks to Enjolras. 

****

Grantaire didn’t see Enjolras for another day. There was no one to steal his sunbeam (now scheduled for sunset instead of sunrise) and no one to bicker with, unless you counted Courfeyrac, and Courfeyrac liked to debate on sillier topics than Enjolras, so it didn’t really count. None of the others could see him either, but Jehan and Bahorel, who had a view of Enjolras’s food bowl in the kitchen, reported that he had eaten his dinner. He must have snuck in to eat while no one was looking.

The next day Cosette had a friend over. Cosette’s friend was named Éponine, and she was pretty, but in a different way to Cosette. She wore form-fitting jeans Cosette would never try, had her hair up in a high ponytail where Cosette’s was always down, and was dark where Cosette was light. Grantaire would not have paid her much heed if he hadn’t heard them talk about Enjolras.

“My cat destroyed our living room,” Cosette told her friend. “We have to get new furniture, new carpet, everything. Honestly, he’s never done anything like this before. He’s a bit loud, but you could expect that from a Siamese.”

“Hm,” said Éponine. “Some cats are strange… they can change their whole personality in a night.”

“He seems sorry,” said Cosette. “It’s very cute. He sits on my bed every night and gives me mournful stares until I pat him; he never did that before.”

Éponine chuckled. “Maybe he needs a friend,” she said.

“Maybe,” Cosette said. “But I’m not sure if having a cat is even a good idea. It’s a bit stressful; I never know if he’s going to attack the fish or the guinea pigs or the rabbit…”

“You have dogs too,” Éponine reminded her. “They’ve never eaten your other pets.”

“The rabbit’s got a fence around it to protect it, and they don’t come in the house. I can’t give the pets the same protection from Enjolras.” Cosette drank a sip of her tea. “I wondered if you could take him?”

Take him? No, they couldn’t. Enjolras had helped Grantaire out, and now he might be given away because of it? That wasn’t fair, not when Enjolras had told Grantaire he didn’t want to be moved around anymore, he wanted to stay settled. If Enjolras was sent away because he helped Grantaire, the goldfish would never forgive himself. 

“I could,” said Éponine softly. “He is very beautiful.”

“He’s loving too, and I swear he won’t destroy your stuff – he’s probably just stressed because there are dogs around…”

Grantaire was panicking. Enjolras couldn’t leave, not because of something Grantaire said. The goldfish whizzed from side to side, trying to think of a way to stop this from happening. What would Enjolras do?

The answer was completely crazy. It would never work. But Grantaire had gotten what he wanted; his world was just a bit brighter because of Enjolras. He owed it to him to try.

Grantaire swam to the very back of his tank. He paused, trying to work up the courage to do what he was about to do. Then, almost before he had made the decision to go for it, Grantaire was swimming, fast as he could, straight at the glass wall of his tank. It was soundless when he hit it, but pain exploded in his head and seemed to shiver all the way down his spine. He floated aimlessly for just a moment, almost forgetting what he had been doing, then he remembered. And he swam for the glass again.

It must have been only four or five times that Grantaire had done this when Éponine noticed, but it was long enough for Grantaire to be in quite some pain. 

“What on earth is wrong with your goldfish?” she asked.

Cosette glanced around, frowning. “What?”

“He was throwing himself at his tank!”

Grantaire watched the exchange. Éponine and Cosette had seemed to flip, and the entire kitchen setting was on its side. Then Grantaire realised it was him that was on his side, and flipped back upright again.

Éponine laughed lightly. “I guess he doesn’t want me to take your cat,” she mused. “It’s just as well. I have my little brother staying with me now, and I just remembered he’s allergic. Sorry, honey.”

Cosette smiled. “Ah, well. It doesn’t matter. It’s only once. If he does it again I may have to search harder to find him a new home.”

Grantaire was feeling very ill by the time the women said their goodbyes to one another and Éponine left. Grantaire watched Cosette walk Éponine to the door, and when he turned back around it was to see Enjolras sitting on the table next to his tank.

“Thank you,” the cat said with what looked like a very intimidating smile.

“What I did didn’t make a difference,” Grantaire told him. “You know that. You were listening.”

The smile, which Grantaire was probably biologically programmed to fear, stretched wider. “It worked,” Enjolras said simply. Then he leapt down off the table and walked into the study. Grantaire could see him rub himself against Jean Valjean’s legs as the man worked at the computer.

“Cats are crazy, aren’t they?” Grantaire said to nobody in particular, and he wouldn’t have been surprised if his own face was twisted by a toothy, frightening smile.

**Author's Note:**

> I don't know where this idea came from but I really enjoyed writing it. I hope you enjoyed reading it!


End file.
